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April, 1940
W E D N E S D A Y
It's starting to scare Thomas, how quickly time has passed here.
The first three months of 1940 had been tough — tougher than the rest. Rationing has come in even worse, seemingly so. Shop shelves are empty and farming is still taking it's time. The ground was hard and crumbly, difficult to work on, during the coldest months.
The January days seemed to be damp, too. Drowsy, gloomy. It rained all the time, and the only thing Thomas could think then was that the world is fucking bleak.
Newt had lost a little bit of that gleam in his eyes — but the mystery is still there. He still knows. What exactly, Thomas can't say, but he's still hiding something behind those faraway orbs. They still tell too much.
But he's always known — and he always will.
Not to mention Minho is God knows where now — they check the mail every day, hoping, praying, that he's okay. Mina is out of bounds for all February and March, and where she went or what she was doing, Thomas still doesn't know, but he hopes she's happy. Dandy, should keep her happy. At least.
Things don't feel like an adventure anymore. The world is darker, meaner, harsher, rougher. It's getting scary, now, and Thomas feels a sick, tight, twist in his gut when he thinks about it.
He forgets that he's still in the middle of a goddamn war — a war that has chewed up and spat out the innocent lives of those that are lost. The lives of those that are fighting for victory. Those that beat the odds and destroy fate.
Those that come home, and those that don't.
March hadn't been much better — brighter, maybe, but not better. Newt and Thomas had spent their long, long days on the farm, or in the lighthouse. They'd returned to visiting the beach — it'd gotten too cold during February, and the first sight of blooming flowers sent them right back to where they started.
Now, at the beginning of April, things are still the same. Sunnier, warmer, a little bit easier. But Minho is still nowhere to be seen, Mina is hiding from everyone, Newt is chewing his nails and fidgeting nervously all the time, and Thomas is wondering about what the fuck is going on.
But they have hope. Or, maybe not — but at least they pretend they do. Newt smiles if he catches Thomas staring at him, and Thomas does the same. They still whisper girlishly and kiss sweetly when no ones watching — and those are the nights Thomas remembers why he wants to stay.
